


Waves of Panic

by SeaTurtle



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Epic Bromance, Food Issues, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaTurtle/pseuds/SeaTurtle
Summary: Shawn kept his gaze on the span of stars far above that tried to shine on the dark water that threaded through his fingers. He felt small and alone, intangible, swimming amongst the countless stars, literally another fish in the sea.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer
Kudos: 34





	Waves of Panic

'I'm lost I'm lost I'm lost I'm lost'- Each a rhythmic head thump against his fist. 

Shawn paced wildly in the sand, his heel spinning and wobbling as he turned. His pants were wet, his shirt wrinkled from where he had clenched it in his fist. A breeze skated across the back of his neck raising goose bumps on his chilled skin. He stumbled on the unstable, shifting sands beneath his feet.

These moments hit him like a seizure, building and building until they burst out of him. Sleeplessness plagued him the week before. He was tired, but incredibly jittery and giddy. Every sense heightened except his sight which jumped around like his head was experiencing an earthquake. His body was taut, muscles clenched, and the cords on his neck stood out like vines under his skin.

He grit his teeth and tore at the skin on his arms leaving long, red marks from his ragged fingernails. He wanted to scream. Instead, he bit his own wrist, feeling the throb of his pulse against his teeth as his jaw clamped down painfully.

He walked straight into the water and dropped to his knees. A wave hit his chest, splashing into his face, stealing his breath. The strong, salty smell filled his nose and he shivered as the moonlight bounced off the choppy waves. A slimy piece of seaweed wound around his fingers making him feel that the ocean was trying to tie itself to him and bring him down into its depths. He felt a dizzying, spiraling sensation in his head that caused his legs to weaken.

He was alone and felt lost within himself. He couldn't find what he wanted. He didn't know why the case had gone wrong, why the little kid had died, why his dad chose to insult him, his mother ignore him. Gus was busy, too busy for him. More important things, more important people. His heart raced with each desperate thought as they chased themselves around and around.

Shawn ducked his head under the water and felt the cool wash of the wave over his hunched body. Relief flooded him as the water encapsulated him. His senses filled with the briny moisture that enveloped him and the frantic pace of his body and mind finally began to slow. He didn't surface for a long moment, enjoying the muffled sounds, the echoing noises pressed like fluffy cotton against his ears. His knees ground into the coarse sand and he realized he had lost one of his shoes at some point. He dug the toes of his socked foot into the sand, longing to bury himself under the wet, heavy grains.

He rose up just long enough to gasp a breath before submerging his head back under. He loved the lack of anything as he kept his face in the water. He opened his eyes in the dark water, seeing the faintest blue as the cold, white moon cut through illuminating the top layer of water. He sucked in a breath of air then laid himself out on his belly and let his body float face down in the vacillating ocean. He imagined he was floating in the stars as he fought to keep his mind blank, to keep from thinking. He pictured the stars above and being in the silence of space as he lay there. Imagining not being able to hear anything but the thump of his own heartbeat, the feel of the sucking burn in his airless chest. He tried to stay focused on nothing. 

He felt so sleepy, so blank and sleepy as he floated. This was nice. His body undulated with the natural movement of the little waves. He felt small like he was being rocked to sleep. He felt a yearning for his mother suddenly and just as quickly pushed the thought away. He focused on relaxing every muscle and sank further. Time slowed and he felt so alone, like he was the only thing alive.

He startled as something hit him hard in the back. His shoulders crunched as something tore at him, yanking his head from the water. He gasped noisily, the sound of his racing pulse keeping him further disoriented as he was flipped onto his back. His dream world shattered as sound and cold air scraped against his sensitive skin. He pulled in as much water as air as he was shocked from his brief moment of peace.

"SHAWN!" 

Shawn blinked away water that burned his eyes. A blurry Gus was the one doing all the yelling, hitting, splashing and grabbing. Shawn coughed hard trying to expel the salt water in his lungs. He winced as Gus pounded his back.

"Wha...What? Gus? What're you..."

"You stupid...you stupid fucking idiot!" Gus swore, his dark eyes flashing in the bright moonlight. The white reflection in his eyes made Shawn think of a mirror. He wondered if he could see himself if he looked harder.

Shawn was still incredibly disoriented and realized he was on his back, his head resting on Gus' shoulder while Gus gripped him around chest. Shawn felt hurt both by Gus' words and his harsh treatment to his stiff, cold body. 

"Huh?" Shawn slurred lazily. He let his eyes drift closed only to open them again as Gus shook him hard. "Wha?!" Shawn groused and let out a few loud coughs.

"Stay awake! Don't close your eyes! How could you do this, Shawn?" Gus panted in Shawn's ear, feet churning the water beneath them.

Shawn blinked and looked around, realizing he had drifted quite farther than wading level and now he and Gus really were like the couple in Open Water.

"Where'd you come from, 'us?" Shawn asked as the muscles in his jaw shook, his teeth clenched against shivers. It was a funny feeling, the creeping numbness along his limbs contrasting against the burn in his chest and throat. He thought maybe this was what a fish felt as it was pulled out of water and left to flop on the ground until it died.

"I came from looking for you everywhere! What were you doing, Shawn? Trying to drown yourself? Sorry, Shawn, but you aren't Sylvia Plath, you aren't even Virginia Woolf!" Gus' tone was harsh, but his grip was firm and he stopped yelling as Shawn coughed raggedly. Gus glared at his own fingers as they soothed Shawn's chest quite without his permission. 

"Not tryin' to drown. I was just... It all hit...it was..." Shawn struggled to explain as much as he struggled to breathe, air catching and rasping in his chest, fighting him. The seaweed had loosened from his fingers and Shawn felt sad as the last of it slipped off. The ocean didn't want him anymore.

Gus sighed, "I know. You had an anxiety attack. Why didn't you call me, Shawn. You knew one was coming, didn't you?" 

Shawn mumbled a reply, then yawned. Gus rubbed Shawn's chest firmly to keep him awake and alert. "Don't be stupid! Of course I would have come. I did, didn't I? Aren't I currently hauling your soggy ass through the ocean?" The eerie stillness of the air made their voices echo across the shimmering glass of the water.

Shawn's reply came in a sigh and in his hand tightening on Gus' wrist that lay across his chest. He looked at his other hand as it trailed through the water, cutting it into liquid ribbons.

"Talk to me," Gus insisted as he pulled them through the water toward the sand, fighting the current that pushed them further down the shore and out to sea. He grit his teeth and stroked harder with his left arm. Shawn was listless, allowing himself to be towed in as Gus fought the tug of the swirling current around his ankles.

He hated Shawn's anxiety attacks. They didn't happen often but they did happen with some regularity. With a mind like Shawn's the pressure seemed to build up. Shawn would begin drawing away from people, letting every barb injure him deeply instead of shrugging them off with a laugh. His mind would grow frantic from a case. Gus had even seen it back in school, an impending exam or looming project would be the jumping-off point. He let everything build and fester, all the while drawing away from anything that could bring him comfort-some sort of self punishment. He would pick at his food, appetite diminishing. He would restlessly try to sleep and only end up pacing or cleaning late at night. Gus tried his best to help Shawn through it. Feeding him or getting him to rest when he couldn't do those things for himself; as Shawn collapsed in on himself.

Shawn's mind was a peculiar place that was forced to be disciplined by his father. Sometimes the pressure of trying to juggle the chaos of his thoughts with the ingrained discipline created a split that would render him defenseless. The crack would affect the way he performed every task, every reaction, thought, and action were fodder for rising panic at his inability to process. He became paralyzed, sinking deep into himself, leaving every mental crevasse open for wounding.

His personality that was always on, wore thin, his energy waned, the facade cracked, fights would play like old home movies in his head. He would replay every time his parents fought about him, every time his dad said he was a disappointment, every time his mom said she was too busy, and every time Gus, himself, had rolled his eyes and walked away. Shawn built himself a personalized torture chamber and immersed himself in the the frigid depths of guilt, blame and anger and let it fester until he snapped.

Gus had seen it several times. It was frightening to see the life drain out of Shawn as he filled with depression, anger or fear. Unfortunately, Gus had been so busy this past week he hadn't seen it coming. So he hadn't been able to head it off with a couple quiet days just letting Shawn slowly break down then build himself up before moving on again.

Gus might dislike the anxiety attacks, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed a part of the times when Shawn began to crumble. He didn't gain any pleasure from the destruction to his friend, his brother, but there was a small glimmer of positivity that Gus cherished. They would both retreat and lock themselves up with snacks and silly movies to ride out the waves of crushing emotional pain. When Shawn let Gus see him vulnerable and let him help soothe him, Gus felt immense pride at being given the title of Shawn's Best Friend. And the secluded days were quiet and heartbreaking but they grew closer than ever each time.

Gus felt Shawn's head loll in the quiet. He knew that the attacks sapped Shawn's energy and made him extremely tired afterward, but Gus couldn't drag his dead weight around. He needed Shawn to stay with him. He cleared his throat and hitched Shawn's body closer and began to sing. 

"Four, three, two, one. Earth below us. Drifting, falling. Floating weightless." 

After a few moments he felt the chest under his arm begin rumbling as Shawn first began humming then singing along with him.

"Coming, coming home." They both sang as they kicked through the waves drawing closer to the shore.

Shawn kept his gaze on the span of stars far above that tried to shine on the dark water that threaded through his fingers. He felt small and alone, intangible, swimming amongst the countless stars, literally another fish in the sea. His chin wobbled as his fear tried to swallow him up again, feast on his insecurities. 

He stopped singing and felt his breath catch. Then the arm around his chest tightened and warm breath hit his ear, “Earth beee-low us.” And Gus was there, keeping him above the water, keeping him anchored.

Finally Gus' feet hit sand. He pulled them along a little further before trying to get Shawn to stand up in the waist high water. Shawn struggled to get his limbs back under his own control. His body seemed hesitant to leave the comfort of the ocean as he stumbled, his knees trying to pull him back down. He finally got his feet firmly enough under himself to totter out of the water. He still clung to Gus as he was tugged forward. 

The heaviness of his own body was painful and Shawn felt like he was sinking into the earth with renewed gravity. Gus drew them out from the water to collapse onto dry sand, their bodies creating imprints on the shifting ground. They panted as they laid there, feet touching the sand where it darkened and grew moist from the waves creeping up the shore. Foam crackled at their ankles, as the edge of water licked at their feet trying to lure them back into the ocean's embrace.

Gus stretched out, feeling exhausted. He had so much he wanted to say, he wanted to be angry and hurt and to tell Shawn how utterly stupid he was. Instead he blindly reached out his hand, groping across the sand until he found a cold, damp arm. He tightened his hand on the soaking wet, plaid covered limb. 

"Shawn, next time just call me." He felt the arm turn over and shift until he felt curled fingers under his palm. He had a moment's thought that if anyone else saw them it would look like they were holding hands while sprawled on the dark beach. But Gus didn't care and kept his hand over the icy fingers. 

Shawn stared up with unseeing eyes, desperately missing the weightlessness of being in the water. There was a pounding in his head that throbbed sickly with the pulse of the sea. He still felt small but not quite so alone anymore. The warmth spreading out from Gus' hand helped. He felt it spread slowly, oozing up his arm.

"I'm sorry, Gus. I just...I'm sorry." Shawn's breath hitched and he let out a sigh. "Thanks buddy. I...I...I..." His hoarse voice trailed off, he coughed weakly, trying to ignore the siren call of the sea.

"I know, Shawn. Me too," Gus told him as he looked up at the sky, searching for any constellations he could recognize. His eyes mapped out the glittering stars above their heads, his hand slowly warming cold fingers. The only other sound was the dull roar of the waves.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: I wrote this 10 years ago!
> 
> Quoted song is Major Tom (Coming Home) by Peter Schilling.
> 
> Warning: One curse word
> 
> Very special thanks must go to MockTurtle and Silverluna. They were not my betas, they were fellow artists that encouraged me and helped sculpt this bubble of sensations. So much love and thanks go to them. Also many thanks to Dragonnan who also gave this a read and a nod of approval which meant a lot to me. I am gratified to know you guys. 
> 
> Also, I am constantly inspired by the hilarious and loving relationship portrayed by James Roday and Dule Hill. They lend themselves to making these characters real, alive and yes, sometimes full of anxiety. I thank them for being such great artists.


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